


How Subtle the Memory, How Imperfect the Mind

by nyagosstar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5323571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/pseuds/nyagosstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen is sent to Tevinter to help him recover from Kinloch, but in a city steeped in magic, he finds little rest. Demons, old gods, and a reckless charge aren't much of an improvement from where he was before. </p><p>Except Cullen's never met anyone like Dorian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dragonagebb's Reverse Big Bang, where I was paired with the lovely and inspiring trailer below. 
> 
> This takes place with a little distance for Cullen from Kinloch, but not much. He also uses lyrium without any critical thought in the matter, so be wary if that's an issue for you.

[Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang Art #8](https://vimeo.com/146972102) from [Trickytricky](https://vimeo.com/user12912541) on [Vimeo](https://vimeo.com).


	2. Chapter 2

The whole of Tevinter set his teeth on edge, but the city of Minrathous reeked of magic. 

His directions toward the Minrathous Circle were precise, but even without them, he’d have been able to find the building, jutting out of the ground like a spike, all grand arches, colorful windows, and detailed carvings. It was the kind of structure that would have been used for royalty back home, but in Tevinter, it was commonplace for mages. He sneered at the opulence, uncaring who saw him.

Knight Commander Greagoir said his assignment was a chance to take a break, to find some peace after what had happened. But he knew the truth; it was a placement of dishonor, of punishment for not falling back in line. 

And how could he? How were any of them supposed to go back to work as if nothing happened, as if Cullen himself had not been trapped by abominations? Their laughter haunted his dreams, taunting him, until he was left shaking and sleepless. How was he supposed to work with the same mages who had been in the tower when Uldred took over, the same ones who were in line to become abominations under his hand?

His assignment to the Templars in Minrathous was no respite. It was not a chance for him to find peace, it was a chance for Knight Commander Greagoir to send him somewhere far away where he wouldn’t be faced with Cullen’s reports of suspicious activities among the mages. 

Paranoid, they called him. But leniency had seen a tower full of the dead and Cullen could not ignore that memory.

He dismounted near the entrance and handed off his mount to a slim elf who wouldn’t meet his gaze. A broad set of stairs led to a set of extravagant double doors. Armed guards stood on either side of the stairs, but did nothing to impede his progress. What was the point of soldiers if they didn’t question those coming to the Circle?

For such heavy looking doors, they swung open with ease under his touch. The entrance was done in gold inlay and marble, carved columns and rich draperies that stank of weath. Mages moved through the space unrestricted and the feeling of magic was so intense he had to stop and catch his breath. Why would Greagoir send him to such a Maker-forsaken place? Did he want Cullen to fail?

Set back from the main door, there was a wide desk occupied by a young man who lit up when he spotted Cullen. He stood and crossed to him and as he grew closer, Cullen saw he did not carry a staff, and had the build of a fighter, not a mage. He gave a half bow and a full smile.

“You must be Templar Rutherford. Welcome to Minrathous. I hope your journey wasn’t too taxing.”

Cullen shook his head. “It was fine.”

“I’m Felix Alexius, I’ll be your cultural liaison while you’re in Tevinter.” A frown passed over his face for the briefest moment. “You have a liaison for the Circle, but he’s running late. Allow me to show you to your quarters.” Felix swept out an arm and started off. “You’ll be on the first floor with the rest of the Templars. There isn’t as much room down here, because of the meeting spaces for supplicants and the grand arena, but I believe your assignment looks out over the garden, so at least you’ll be able to trick yourself into thinking you have more space.” 

As they walked through the broad, bright halls, so different from every Ferelden Circle he’d ever been in, Felix nodded to people they passed, raised his hand in greeting to a few, but never slowed or took his attention too far from Cullen.

“Have you visited Tevinter before?”

Cullen shook his head. “This is my first time out of Ferelden.”

“Oh, well, you’ve picked a glorious place to start your travels. Minrathous is an ancient city. Some of the buildings here are older than our neighboring kingdoms.” He turned a sympathetic grin on Cullen. “Of course, that makes it easy to get lost out in the streets, but that’s what I’m here for. Any time you want to take a turn through the city, I’m happy to escort you.”

Cullen cleared his throat twice before he was able to speak. “Are you a mage?”

Felix held up a hand and rocked it back and forth. “I have magic, but it’s not strong. Technically I’m part of the Circle, but I’m only here during the summers. I spend the rest of the year in Val Royeaux at the university studying mathematics. It’s much more my field.” He looked over his shoulder. “That’s why Dorian is your Circle liaison; he’s a full member of the Circle and can answer the questions that I can’t.” 

They turned a corner to a slightly less broad hallway and stopped at a sturdy looking door. “Here we are.” Felix unlocked the door and then handed over the key to Cullen. “It’s not much, but it should be comfortable.”

Cullen had, on one occasion, been in the Knight Commander’s personal quarters. It was hardly more than his own room had been, bare and sparse, function taking precedence over beauty. As it should. They were soldiers protecting Ferelden from the potential threat of a mage gone out of control. There was no need for finery and frivolity. 

The room Felix showed him was twice the size of Greagior’s room. The bed was the largest Cullen had ever seen in person, there was a vanity against the far wall with a mirror set in silver, a sturdy wardrobe, a stand for his armor and broad windows that opened out onto a garden. “Surely there must be some mistake.”

Felix ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you might expect as an ambassador from Ferelden, but the Grand Enchanter has strict rules about where the Templars sleep within the Circle.”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “This is too much.” Without the sounds of his fellow Templars sleeping in the bunks next to his, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He didn’t have enough things to fill the space. The room would rattle around him and he’d never adjust. He clenched his hands into fists. “Are there no barracks?”

“Ah, I see. No, the barracks are for common soldiers and are located off the grounds of the Circle. Templars are assigned their own rooms. I’m certain you’ll come to find it pleasant. Let me show you the washroom.”

“Washroom?” he said faintly as he followed Felix to the door he assumed led to another suite, but actually opened into a seperate room with a tub and basin. “I’ve heard much of Ferelden still relies on carrying buckets of water to a bath, but in the Circle and in many parts of the city, we have running water.” He demonstrated, opening a valve in the wall that let water run into the basin. He touched a glyph on the pipe and steam rose from the water. 

Cullen’s stomach turned at the thought of magic, untended, so close to him. “That’s very clever.”

Felix turned off the valve. “Well, you’re not scheduled to meet with Verinus until tomorrow morning, so you have the rest of the day at your leisure. Unpack, get a feel for the place and I’ll see if I can’t track down Dorian. If you’re of a mind to go out into the city, I’ll be at the consular in the foyer.” He smiled and slipped from the room, leaving Cullen alone.

He walked back into the main room and dropped his travel bags by the end of his bed. Under his fingers, the coverings to the bed were soft and light, and caught on the hard edges of his calluses. He opened the wardrobe and was overwhelmed with the scent of spice and citrus and found a small pouch of dried flowers and orange peels hiding in the corner of the bottom shelf. 

On shaky legs, he walked to the window and pushed open the panes. The garden was in full bloom. A light breeze carried the scent of fresh grass and flowers through the room. Out in the courtyard, dozens of mages walked through the space, their long robes brushing the cobbled walkway as they spoke in pairs and small groups. A single Templar stood watch on the far side, his eyes straight ahead, like an honorary guard rather than someone looking to prevent catastrophe.

Cullen pulled the windows closed and slid down the smooth surface of the wall to sit on the floor, his hands trembling and his breathing coming in short, hard gasps. He knew he was in Minrathous, he knew he wasn’t trapped by abominations, but it felt the same. He could hear their laughter, smell the blood of his fallen friends, taste the spark of magic in the air, dark and twisted. How much had Greagoir hated him to send him to this awful place? Better to have turned him out of the order all together than suffer such a fate. 

He crawled across the floor to his pack and opened it with shaking hands, digging through clothes to find his lyrium kit. He’d brought enough with him to last three months, worried that the supply in Tevinter might be scarce or different somehow, than what was provided to him in Ferelden. The glowing blue liquid calmed him as he held it in his hands. He prepared the dose and closed his eyes as the rush hit, calming him. He was a Templar. The lyrium gave him the strength to stop a dangerous mage. Perhaps the Tevinter Templars weren’t on guard for the danger the Mages represented, but he would not fall lax.

Never again.

*

Cullen had just finished unpacking, his body still thrumming with lyrium when his door banged open. Cullen jumped back, too far from his sword.

“You look like you’re settling in.” His intruder swept his gaze across the room before settling on Cullen. He was tall, with wild hair and a clean shaven face. His dark, golden skin set off his strangely pale eyes. “Welcome to the Minrathous Circle. This place is a pit, run by idiots. Dorian Pavus, at your service, though I’m not sure what they expect me to do with you.” He bowed, then sauntered over to Cullen’s bed where he took a seat, running his fingers over the blankets. 

“What are you doing here?”

Dorian frowned at him. “I’m your Circle liaison, Felix said he’d told you.” He waved a hand, like none of it mattered. “I’m sure Verinus will fill you in tomorrow, but I’m being punished for having an original thought, so you’ll be babysitting me during your stay in Minrathous. I don’t mind you following me around, but you cannot interfere with my work.”

“You’re a mage?” He’d never met a mage so lively, so sure of himself. He’d certainly never had one dictate actions to him.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Southerners. Was I speaking too quickly? You’ll be following me around to make sure I don’t upset anyone.” He brushed at the front of his robes and flicked a piece of lint to the floor. “Maker, this room is depressing. Are you hungry? Felix has invited us for dinner, and to be honest, if you turn him down he’s likely to pout for days. His parents are out of town and he hates rattling around in the estate by himself.”

“I don’t—“

“There’s a good man.” Dorian stood and clapped his shoulder. “We can pick him up on our way out.” He paused. “You did bring something other than the armor, though, yes? I’ll wait outside while you change.” He swanned out of the room with the same ease that he entered and Cullen was left wondering what had just happened.

Greagoir hadn’t told him much about his assignment, but he assumed it would be something more important that looking after a single mage. Following him around was the work of a new recruit, not a seasoned soldier. Cullen rubbed a hand over his face until his palm stung from his stubble. He considered refusing, locking the door and ignoring any further attempts to talk, but thought it was not the best way to begin his commission. 

He made quick work of removing his armor and changing into his best trousers and linen tunic. In the washroom, he wiped away the lingering touch of the road. The water itself seemed to run on mechanics of some kind. As long as he kept away from the glyph for heat, he thought it a keen invention. Once finished, he went to meet Dorian. Already uncomfortable out of his armor, Dorian’s slow exam of his clothes made him feel awkward and exposed. Hard enough to take from any person, but from a mage, and a handsome one at that—it was only years of training that kept him from fidgeting. 

“Perhaps we’ll have to squeeze in a shopping trip.”

“I have no need for trivialities.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “In Tevinter, proper clothing is a necessity. If you want people to take you seriously, you must dress the part.”

Cullen didn’t respond, instead letting Dorian lead the way back to the entrance. He was used to the winding halls of the Kinloch Circle. The hallways in Minrathous all looked the same. Perhaps someone had a map of the building’s interior he could study and familiarize himself with. He felt twitchy and anxious not knowing his exits, and the air of magic swirling through the Tower didn’t help. Perhaps an evening outside would be beneficial.

“Felix! Dinner.”

Felix sighed at their approach. “Yes, I said dinner, it’s still early afternoon. I have another two hours here.”

Dorian leaned over the counter. “Felix, dinner.” His voice took on a whine.

Felix looked around then at Cullen. “I suppose I could say it’s part of my cultural liaising.” He pushed back from the desk. “Maker knows you can’t be trusted not to get our new friend into trouble.”

“Mm. He looks like he could use it.” He picked himself up as Felix came around to join them. “We can go to the market. I want figs. And our dear Templar Rutherford is in need of new clothes.”

“Leave him alone, Dorian. He’s been here a day.” Felix led them out of the Circle Tower and through the streets of Minrathous to the market district. Though there were more people, shouting in a mix of common and Tevene, shoving in, pushing at each other, it was less overwhelming than the Tower. Easier, too, to see who was a mage and who had no magic. Felix and Dorian were granted a large berth of space as they walked along the stalls, while those without were shoved together and often ignored by vendors. 

They picked up figs and oranges and a pouch of spices. From one vendor, Felix gasped in delight to purchase what looked like sticky cockroaches but Felix assured him was something called a date. Dorian tried to get him into a tailor shop, but Cullen insisted he was fine and they made it out of the market without incident. 

From there, Felix hired a carriage to drive them out to his estate. Felix took one side of the coach while Dorian shared his bench, eating figs and asking questions. “Where are you from?”

“A small village near Redcliffe.” He rarely bothered to name Honnleath. The village was small enough that even locals didn’t know of it. He answered generic questions about when he joined the Templars, what the south was like, how far he’d traveled. Most of Dorian’s questions made him feel like a very interesting exhibit, he half expected Dorian to take notes. 

Until he made an offhand comment about Mia, then he had both of their attention. “You have a sister?” Felix leaned forward.

“Two of them. And a brother.”

“Dear Maker, there are four of you? How strange. What was it like?” Dorian threw a stem out of the window, careless, as his eyes stayed focused on Cullen. 

He shrugged, not sure what to say. “Crowded. Not a lot of space to myself with so many of us in the house. If I wanted to be alone, I had to go out into the fields.” He tried to describe what he remembered of living on the farm, but he’d been young when he went to his first Circle Tower and had more memories of growing up in the barracks than he did of the farm. 

“Shared rooms. How strange.”

“You don’t have siblings?”

Dorian laughed while Felix shook his head. “Most of the more prominent families only have one—“

“Usually because the couple hates each other,” Dorian sneered.

“So unless there are twins, we’re mostly single children. There’s no need for shared rooms.”

Dorian pulled aside the curtain of the carriage so Cullen could see the sprawling estate that was their destination. “Even if there was a second child, there’s more than enough space. Halward and Aquinea have their own wings.”

He looked at Dorian in question.

“My parents.”

The carriage stopped and Felix gave him a short tour through the estate while Dorian wandered off. “Are you all right?” he asked when they were alone and strolling through a hall of nothing but opulent paintings.

“Fine, thank you.”

“I know Dorian can be a bit much and he’s very angry about your assignment. He’s being very good today, but don’t take it personally if he tries to take it out on you.”

Cullen could absolutely see Dorian’s abrupt manner turning to something darker. “What did he do?” Blood magic was banned across all of Thedas, but Cullen had heard the rumors of Tevinter mages, how they used it as surely as they breathed. Perhaps he had been caught out in public.

“He’s researching the origins of the Circle Tower and he’s poking into places that people wish to leave untouched. Tevinter’s history is long and often dark and some things are better left alone. But Dorian,” he sighed. “Dorian can’t leave things alone.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “He’s under watch because of research, not magic?”

“Magic, Maker, no. Dorian’s magic is well under control. He’s embarrassed the wrong people, that’s all.”

Cullen made a study of one of the paintings, he didn’t care about the composition or the fine brushwork, but he needed the time to think. He felt completely out of his depth. He was trained to control and contain mages, to watch for abuses in their magic and keep people safe. In Tevinter, his role was a glorified babysitter to a man who, from everything Cullen had seen, was a spoiled child who didn’t like to be told no. 

He was wasting his time. Perhaps he would be better off leaving Tevinter and making his way back to Ferelden, though he had no idea where he would go once got back. Honnleath was home for his parents and his siblings. When he thought of home, he thought of his room in the Circle Tower. He didn’t know what he was without the title of Templar. 

He drew a breath and straightened. He could always leave the next day.

*

Dinner was a strange affair, with foods he’d never heard of, let alone tasted, a host of servants to bring in dishes and keep their cups full, and more wine than Cullen had ever had in one sitting. He was dizzy and loose-limbed on the carriage ride back to the Circle and if Dorian spoke, Cullen couldn’t remember his conversation.

He woke with the dawn, the heavy drapes for his windows having never been pulled closed, with an aching head and no memory of making the trip from the carriage back to his room. His boots were off, but he was still in his clothes from the day before. He coughed into a closed fist, squeezed his eyes shut, and gave himself just a few moments to wallow. 

After a few tries, he gained his feet and lurched to the washroom where the cold water splashed against his face was a welcome relief. He ran through the rest of his morning routine by rote: wash, shave, dress, lyrium, armor. Despite the warm rush of the lyrium, he was still a little nauseated and so skipped breakfast to present himself to Knight Commander Verinus first thing. One of the Templars was kind enough to show him the way, if not exactly pleased about it.

The Knight Commander of the Minrathous Circle was an older man, weathered and almost frail behind his wide desk. He didn’t stand as Cullen entered, barely looked up from his plate of fruit. “You’re the one they sent us from Ferelden. Greagoir said we’ll have you for a few months. Do you have any questions?”

“What are my duties, Knight Commander?”

Verinus swallowed down a fat grape and waved a tiny fork at him. “I understand you met with Dorian Pavus yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“That is your duty. You will follow Messere Pavus and make sure he doesn’t cause undue commotion.”

Cullen resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck in frustration. “To what end, Knight Commander?”

Verinus set his fork down with a clatter. “‘To what end’, he asks. To keep reports of his nonsense off of my desk, to keep the Grand Enchanter from threatening to cast him out of the circle. The Minrathous Circle depends on the very generous donations of Magister Pavus, donations we will lose if Dorian is expelled. Keep him quiet and keep him out of my office.”

Cullen waited as Verinus went back to his breakfast and a report on his desk.

“What are you still standing there for, boy? Dismissed. Go find Pavus before he sets the building on fire.”

With no further instructions, Cullen left the room, uncertain of where to find Dorian and if Verinus was serious about the danger of fire or not. He took a chance and wound his way back to the foyer were Felix was seated, once again, behind the consular, his nose to a book and a sheet of calculations at his hand.

Cullen cleared his throat and when that didn’t get Felix’s attention, he knocked on the desk. Felix jumped in his seat. “Oh, Cullen. I didn’t expect to see you so early.”

He looked around the foyer, but there was no one to overhear their conversation. “Do you know where I can find Dorian?”

“Still sleeping, I’d imagine. It’s rare he’s awake before noon, most days.” Felix pushed up and stacked his work into a neat pile. “I can show you. You can at least wait in his sitting room until he decides to face the day.”

“Noon,” Cullen repeated, mostly to himself. He didn’t know anyone who’d slept so long unless they were near death. Even that wasn’t enough of an excuse in most cases.

“He’s a late worker. Does his best thinking by moonlight, he says. You’ll probably need to flip your sleep schedule to keep up with him.” Felix led him up three levels and the tang of magic grew sharper with each step until all of the hair on arms and the back of his neck was pricked up and he felt like he was going to rattle out of his armor.

Felix didn’t bother to knock, just slid a key into the door and pushed through. Where Cullen felt his room was extravagant, Dorian’s space was luxurious. He had a sitting room that looked out over the city, two wide and soft looking couches faced the windows. Bookcases lines the walls and there was an honest to Maker fountain bubbling in the corner. A carved set of double doors were set on the far wall where Cullen assumed Dorian’s bedroom was.

While Cullen hesitated to enter the sitting room, Felix had no problem, opening a window to let in a light breeze and then poking his head through one of the double doors. He closed it softly. “Sleeping, as I suspected. You can make yourself comfortable. It’ll be hours still before he’s up. I’d stay and keep you company, but I can’t be away from the consular too long. No doubt I’ll see you for dinner this evening.”

Cullen occupied himself by pacing the length of the room, reading over the titles of the books, and dipping his fingers through the fountain. Dorian’s view was better than his own, high above the city and looking out. It was an encompassing view that showed the life of the city without the immediate noise and presence that came through his own window. 

Eventually, he pulled a random book from the shelves and took a seat on one of the couches. He wasn’t interested in the theory of time magic, but it kept his hands busy and his mind moving, so that when the door to Dorian’s bedroom cracked open and Dorian slinked out, blinking and rumpled, he looked like he was busy instead of killing time.

“You’re here,” Dorian said in surprise.

“Felix let me in.”

Dorian made a noncommittal sound and threw himself full length on the opposite couch, one arm flung over his eyes. He was silent so long, Cullen went back to his reading, thinking that Dorian had fallen asleep. “I’ll be spending most of the day in the library. There’s no need for you to accompany me.”

“Knight Commander Verinus said I’m to stay with you.” He’d actually said nothing of the sort, but Cullen was good at extrapolating orders from broad outlines.

“I bet he did.” Dorian heaved a sigh and got to his feet. “Let’s go, then.”

That day began a pattern that last through the next week. Felix let Cullen into Dorian’s room where he occupied himself with reading or attempting to write letters home until Dorian woke after noon. They spent the rest of the daylight hours in the library, Dorian reading and taking notes, Cullen watching Dorian and fetching the occasional book. They retired to Felix’s estate when Felix was done with his work and then they returned to the Circle sometime in the night where Dorian would work either in his room or in the library until the early hours of the morning. 

Unlike the first day, once Cullen was actually on the job of tailing Dorian, Dorian didn’t speak to him unless necessary. There were no more questions, no more idle conversation. He asked for books, and more time, but otherwise treated Cullen as if he was invisible. When Cullen had his weekly check in with Verinus, the Knight Commander told him to keep his guard. “He’s biding his time, waiting for you to become complacent. Mark my words.”

That night, at Felix’s estate, there were other guests at the table. Young men and women close in age to their host, some with magic, and some without, all from well-known families. After dessert, but before the final wine course of the evening, Dorian excused himself for a bit of fresh air. Cullen half rose to follow, but Felix shook his head. “He can’t get up to anything dangerous here.”

Guests came and went from the table and eventually Dorian returned, a slight flush to his face but otherwise nothing was out of turn. On the ride back to the Circle, he was languid and spoke to Cullen as if he was a person and not a fixture. “We’ll be going into the lower levels of the Circle this evening. There are markings down there that can only be examined after dark.”

He disliked the idea of being in the dark, beneath the Circle with a mage. “It’s late.”

“That’s the point. Where’s your sense of adventure, Cullen? It’s just for a little while and then I’ll take the day off tomorrow. You can sleep and polish your armor or sharpen your sword or whatever it is you do for fun.” 

“Dorian,”

“I’m not asking.” The smooth fluidity of his limbs tightened into something almost fierce and he was silent through the rest of the ride. 

Most of the Circle was asleep when they arrived, though they did pass a stray or two in the halls on their way to their own late night research. Dorian led the way with confidence, his hand raised to carry a ball of mage fire that had Cullen breathing deliberate and slow through his nose and out through his mouth as he clutched at the rail.

“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

Not even Dorian’s mocking tone was enough to break into his growing panic. Not here, he thought to himself. Not now. So far he’d managed to contain his bouts of panic to times when he was alone, or when he could return to his room with little trouble. Nightmares triggered most of them so he was able to handle the clinging, cloying fear on his own until it passed or until the sun rose. 

When he didn’t respond, Dorian increased the range of his light, but it did nothing but drive the fear deeper. They reached the final floor and Cullen pressed himself against the wall, his fingers digging into the grooves between the stones until they were sore. “How long,” he stopped and cleared his throat as his voice cracked. “How long will this take?”

Dorian peered at him through the darkness, but the distance was too great, or Dorian was too courteous to make any comment about his state. “A hour, perhaps more. You can wait for me upstairs.”

He wanted. Oh, how he wanted to run up the steps and breathe the fresh air. But watching Dorian was his charge. “I’ll stay.”

It was an exercise in patience. Every time Dorian made his mage light flare or Cullen felt a swell of magic, Cullen thought he couldn’t take a single moment more. It was too much. The words of his shame were thick on his tongue as he practived them in his mind. _I’ll wait for you upstairs. I’ll wait for you._ But then the magic would wane and the desire to run wasn’t as strong. And he could stand a few more moments.

“Huh.” Dorian’s voice broke the quiet and Cullen jumped.

“What? Is it something bad?” He put his hand on his sword, though he didn’t know how much good it would do. 

Dorian swung his light in a broad arc. “I don’t know. This is not what I expected to find.” He stepped up to a wall and traced a series of markings. As his fingers finished a particular set, the markings lit up, bright white light racing across the room and the choking feeling of magic increased until Cullen couldn’t breathe. He tried to draw his sword, but it was a dead weight at his side, impossible.

“Dorian,” he tried to shout, but his voice was little more than a whisper that couldn’t carry across the room. 

The lights spread and then met in a blinding flash, the stink of sulfur filled the room and between one breath and the next half a dozen demons invaded. 

He fumbled with his sword, pulling at it until it was free of his sheath as a wicked set of claws raked toward him. He raised the blade, but the blow never came as Dorian’s staff blocked the demon and he dispatched it with a firm strike. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

He shouldn’t have felt relieved. It shouldn’t have been such warm feeling spreading through him, but no mage had ever protected him. No mage had ever fought _for_ him before. It was enough of a surprise that he got his sword under control and was able to bring it to good use, though by that point, Dorian had done most of the work. Between his fire and judicious use of his staff blade the demons were nothing more than ash. 

Cullen was breathing hard, trying to control his shaking hands as the last of Dorian’s fire died out. “What was that?”

“That was not supposed to happen. Every inch of this Tower is covered in glyphs that should prevent demons of any kind within its walls.” He ran his eyes over Cullen. “I would have thought Templar training would be more effective.”

He swallowed hard and turned away. He didn’t have to explain himself. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. Kinloch was behind him and the only way it was going to stay there was if he kept it locked away. “It’s late.”

Dorian was silent for a beat, then agreed. “We can take this up again tomorrow in the daylight, so much for my day off.” He cast one last look around the room before leading the way up the stairs, out of the basement and into the main tower. Cullen didn’t feel any better on the main floor or in his room than he had surrounded by demons. Worse, in fact, without Dorian to watch his back.

He’d never seen a mage fight that way. He’d never seen a mage use magic for much at all. Most of the work that happened in the Circle Towers was theoretical, or if there were practical uses, there were preformed under the watch of much more senior Templars. Cullen tended to think of Mages as dangerous only because of their capacity for temptation to demons. Not because they could wield magic with as much force and precision as he could wield his sword.

Better, if their experience in the basement was any clue. 

He divested himself of his armor and stretched out on his bed, but sleep never came.


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian didn’t leave his rooms the following day and Cullen thought he would go mad from the closed windows and the stifled atmosphere between them. Several times, Dorian seemed about to address him, but he always turned away at the last moment. It put Cullen on edge, waiting for Dorian to ask him why he froze in the basement, why his hands shook as they descended into the dark. But the questions never came. 

As the day wore on, Cullen gave up on being watchful as Dorian rifled through book after book of his private collection. Instead, he settled at the chess table by the window. He hadn’t played in years, but the pieces still felt familiar and soothing under his fingers. Dorian’s set was fine, polished marble, the edges worn and speaking to years of use.

“You play?”

Cullen jumped at Dorian’s question. He hadn’t noticed him coming up to the set. “I used to.”

Dorian took the seat across from him. “Well, it’s not the sort of thing you forget. You can have the first move.” He spun the table to give Cullen the white pieces and leaned back, one knee crossed over the other. “If you can’t remember a rule, I’ll be happy to help.”

He opened by shifting a pawn forward, simple, easy. “Why do I feel like that’s not the truth?”

“Are you accusing me of something, ser?” Dorian moved almost as soon as Cullen’s fingers left his piece. “I am more than capable of winning against a southern brute all on my own, thank you.”

Cullen made a thoughtful sound, not at all ready to believe him. “I’ll be all right.”

“I’m sure you will. So, how does a southern Templar end up working for the Tevinter Templars? That’s not common. I imagine the summer heat alone would kill you.”

The memory of magic, close and choking rushed over his skin. He was trapped, but he wasn’t trapped. He could see Dorian, feel the seat beneath him. The very air was different, thick and wet and fragrant with wildlife. But he still felt like he was bound behind a wall of magic waiting for an abomination to come to him, and make the same wet work of him. 

“Cullen?”

Dorian’s warm voice broke the memory. He drew a breath. “My superiors thought it would be a good change of pace.” The explanation sounded pitiable to his ears, and his voice was weak, almost breathy. He waited for Dorian’s disdain.

“Sounds like I’m not the only one who’s been rewarded with liaison duty.”

He swallowed. “It was not, entirely, my choice to come here.” He didn’t know why it felt like such a relief to say the words aloud.

Dorian hummed and took one of his Templars. “I imagine they didn’t expect you to encounter demons in the basement of the Circle Tower.”

“I could have done without that, yes.” He thought Dorian would poke more into his past, but he let the matter rest. Instead they settled into the game and Dorian turned their topics to lighter material. He promised to take Cullen through the more interesting parts of the city, and discussed the bloody nature of Tevinter politics. Before Cullen knew it, the afternoon was gone.

“Felix is entertaining guests this evening, so we’ll be on our own for dinner. We could go to the hall,” he sneered as he said it. “But that food isn’t fit for animals.”

“All right.” He wasn’t sure if Dorian was looking for an opinion or just speaking his thoughts aloud. 

“There’s a place I know, they specialize in entertainment, but also put out a good spread. We’ll go there.” He stood as he blocked in Cullen’s Divine, ending the game. 

The city was bright and alive outside the walls of the Circle. With Dorian at his side, they strolled through the wide avenues. Minrathous was like no city he’d ever been in. It felt old. The buildings were like living things with their own sense of personality and history. It was better with Dorian narrating the more sordid details that were more likely to be lost in an official tour. Most public places had been the site of assassinations and murders, plenty more were saw the dishonor and embarrassment of public figures. 

“Appearances are important here.”

“Of course. We think very much about how others perceive us and what we show the world. Is there another way to live?”

“Why don’t you just say what you mean or act as you want?”

Dorian laughed. “Should we all just admit that our families are steeped in murder and blood magic?”

Cullen stumbled and coughed to recover, but Dorian saw him.

“Not mine of course. Or, well. Not my immediate family. My father holds to just two principles with any level of fervor. One is that blood magic is the resort of the weak willed. It’s best not to dally with demons, you never know when they’ll make you cross a line you promised yourself you would leave untouched.”

“But many Tevinter mages use blood magic.”

Dorian shrugged. “It’s hard to know just how many. One can’t take a poll at a ball. But I’d say at least half the families of the Magisterium are blood mages. It’s not always dark rites in the middle of the night, but,” he looked away. “Best to keep that kind of thing under wraps. The rest of Thedas already thinks we’d stop at nothing to enthrall the whole world.”

Cullen couldn’t say that wasn’t his own impression, so he went back to Dorian’s earlier comment. “You said your father holds two principles. What’s the second?”

“Ah.” Dorian cleared his throat. “The family line is the most important thing. He imagines a strong line of Pavus’ all the way down the hallowed halls of history. There’s a great deal of impressive breeding that rests on my broad and charming shoulders. He possibly should have considered his grand designs before having just one child.”

“Nothing wrong with that, I suppose.” Of course, Cullen had his brothers and sisters to carry on with children and grandchildren. He didn’t suspect he’d ever have any of his own, and imagined that the pressure would be worse for a single child. 

Dorian pushed his way through the throngs of evening travelers until they reached a tall building, lit up all along the outside with bright lights, in a flagrant and wasteful use of magic if Cullen had ever seen one. It seemed terribly common place in Tevinter. 

The man at the door greeted Dorian like an old friend and led them to a table near a stage. Moments later they were presented with wine and a platter of fruits, roasted vegetables, cheeses and thick spreads that Cullen couldn’t identify, but enjoyed. The interior was loud and it was difficult to hear Dorian, but it didn’t matter as the first show started. Dancers, a troop of them, clad in hardly anything at all slid across the stage and each other to darkly rhythmic music.

For the first half of the show, Cullen didn’t know where to look. He’d never seen so much naked skin all at one time and the way they moved with and around each other seemed like they should have been somewhere private. As the show wore on, though, he found he couldn’t look away from the lithe women and the strongly muscled men.

As the set came to an end, Dorian leaned across the table. “My apologies. I didn’t think before I brought you here. The Templar’s relationship with the Chantry in Tevinter is more ceremonial. I hadn’t considered this might make you uncomfortable.” But there was a gleam in his eye that told a different story.

“If you had a question, you could have just asked instead of setting this up.” He wondered how long Dorian had planned the outing or if it was a spur of the moment decision.

“All right, then. Is there any truth to the rumor that southern Templars take a vow of chastity?”

Cullen finished the last of his wine. “No. Some find it easier to live chaste lives, to avoid the temptation of the mages under their care, but it isn’t a requirement.”

Dorian hummed, a dark, thoughtful sound. “And does that happen often? The worldly Templar seducing the young mage with sweet promises and soft words?”

More often than Cullen cared to think. “Sometimes. The Grand Enchanters and Knight Commanders try to prevent it from happening.” He looked away from Dorian’s heavy gaze. “May I ask you something?”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

He wanted to know why a mage of Dorian’s power was shifted off doing the kind of work usually assigned to new mages or ones that weren’t very adept. He wanted to know why Dorian didn’t seem to have any other friends inside the circle other than Felix, who apparently was gone most of the year. He wanted to know why a man as handsome and accomplished was still unmarried when lineage was so important to his family. But most, he wanted something far more important. “What did you find in the basement?”

Dorian leaned back, his eye brows raised in surprise. He looked around their table, then leaned in. “Everything in Tevinter is built on the bones of something from the past. We’re an old empire and it’s the nature of age to crumble. I started looking into the history of the Circle Tower to irritate the Grand Enchanter, but the more I read, the more I found references Razikale, one of the old gods. I’m not sure what the connection is, but I’ll keep digging until I do. The demon trap just means I’m on to something good.”

“Maybe it’s best to leave whatever’s buried in the past.”

“Where’s the fun in that,” Dorian grinned and signaled for another round of drinks. “If I can prove there’s something at our roots, it might be enough to release me from the Tower’s hold.”

“Hold?”

“Every member of the Circle has to prove that they’re ready to study on their own outside of the Tower. I passed my harrowing years ago, I pass any magical test they throw at me. It’s ridiculous, frankly, that they haven’t let me go yet. I imagine it has something to do with my family’s money and my father’s influence. He feels better when there’s someone to watch over me.”

Cullen remembered his conversation with Verinus. “That seems likely.”

A server came with more wine and Dorian waited until he was gone before continuing. “But enough boring talk, there’re more dancers on the way.”

They stayed through three more sets, late into the night, before stumbling back toward the Tower. Dorian was a warm, solid presence at his side as they navigated the streets, his voice filling all the cold spaces in Cullen’s mind. He wanted the night to go on forever, for dawn to never come, for the demons that haunted his dreams to never have the chance to lay claim to him.

In the foyer, Dorian hesitated, then walked him to his room. They lingered in the deserted hallway staring at each other until Cullen understood that the first move was his. Dorian would never cross the line on his own.

He leaned in, curled his fingers into Dorian’s robes and pulled until they were face to face, breathing each other’s breath. Dorian’s lips tasted of wine and figs. He smelled of wood smoke and cinnamon and Cullen wanted to bury his face into Dorian’s neck and never leave. Instead, he deepened their kiss, wet and untamed, until they were both gasping. 

Overhead, a bell rang the hour and down the hall a door slammed. Dorian jumped back as if burned. “Good night, Cullen.”

Cullen watched Dorian’s unsteady progress until he was out of sight. His bottom lip was tender from where Dorian bit it.

*

Bright sunlight and a knock on the door woke Cullen before he was ready. He scrubbed his hand over his face and stumbled to the door, hoping it wasn’t the Knight Commander. 

Felix was standing at his threshold, the usual congeniality missing from his face. “Cullen, may I have a word?”

He nodded and gestured Felix in. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to speak to you about Dorian.”

Warm hands, spiced wine. He didn’t want to talk about Dorian with Felix. “I don’t know that there’s anything to say.”

“Whatever happened, whatever you think happened last night, didn’t. There are certain things that aren’t acceptable in Tevinter society and it’s best if you keep any idea you might have about Dorian entirely to yourself. He’s not feeling well, so you won’t be needed today for his research. That’s plenty of time for you to clear your memory.”

Cullen sat on the end of his bed and tried to make sense of Felix’s words. “What?”

“Dorian. It’s not what you think.”

He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Maybe it would be easier if you told me what you thought that I thought.”

Felix didn’t smile, didn’t crack his expression at all. If anything, he looked more fierce. “Dorian is my friend and I won’t let you ruin his future with a few misplaced words. Do you understand?”

Cullen shook his head. “I don’t—“

“Is it money you’re after? I can pay you. If you have other demands, I might be able to meet them, but I’ll have you remember this is Tevinter and a misplaced spell or a dull blade can be just as easy as paying off a blackmailer.” Felix’s voice deepened to a growl, and he stalked toward Cullen, all menace and anger.

“Blackmail? Can you please explain what is happening, in slow, small sentences? It’s just that I’ve had quite a lot to drink and you’re not making any sense.” Why couldn’t anyone in Tevinter just say what they meant? They all talked circles around the things they wanted to say and it was infuriating. 

The tension in the room thickened until it was a physical thing. Felix paced around him, staring at him from different angles before heaving out a breath. “You really have no idea, do you?”

Instead of answering, Cullen massaged the bridge of his nose and fantasized about going back to sleep. 

“Last night you kissed Dorian.”

“Yes. Is this because I’m not a mage? He was there, too.” Only Dorian had had as much to drink as Cullen. More, probably. Perhaps, “Was I too forward? He seemed interested, but we both had a lot of wine.”

Felix sighed and took the seat at the desk. “I haven’t been doing my job as your cultural liaison, I see. In Tevinter, relationships between men or relationships between women are taboo. Had you wanted to use this information for your own gain,” he shrugged. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first. And Dorian isn’t as cautious as he should be.”

“Wait,” Cullen raised a hand. “Wait. That’s what this is about? Because we’re both men? What does it matter?”

“In Tevinter, it matters quite a bit. Especially among the Alti, and among well-bred and ancient families like Dorian’s. I don’t care, and he’s my friend, but his father cares and there are those who would use his proclivities against him. With his power and connections, he could be the next Archon, but not if this gets out.”

Cullen tried to imagine Dorian, Dorian of all people, in the highest position in the land. “Is that what he wants?”

“What he wants matters very little, I’m afraid.” Felix stood. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your rest, and for any undue confusion I’ve brought to your door.” He paused at the threshold, his fingers tapping against the wood. “If you choose to pursue something with Dorian, which I don’t advise, don’t do it here. Come to my estate. You’ll be safe enough there.”

He thought of the dinner with guests where Dorian slipped away and then returned to the table flushed. “You’re a good friend.” 

“Someone should be.” He sighed. “I’ll straighten things out with Dorian, but don’t seek him out. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”

Ready for Dorian turned out to quite late in the night. After a day spent napping and reading, Cullen was jolted out of an uncomfortable and dream-filled sleep by a quiet tap on his door. Dorian was dressed as impeccably as ever and made no mention or allusion to their shared kiss. He wasn’t awkward or embarrassed, he simply acted as if it hadn’t happened at all. Which, considering he must have sent a panicked message to Felix first thing in the morning, was quite a feat. 

And that was fine. Honestly, just fine. He didn’t need to get involved with the man he was supposed to be watching. Had he been more under his own control, he would have never let it happen in the first place. It wasn’t that Dorian wasn’t attractive. Even blind, Cullen would have been drawn to him, but their relationship was professional and Cullen knew better. Mixing the two never ended well.

“I need to go to the basement again.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” The memory of demons made his skin crawl, but he kept his tone steady and light.

“Perhaps not, but it is necessary. I doubt there will be more demons, but you needn’t accompany me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Cullen read the double edge of Dorian’s words and sighed. “Can’t leave you in the dark by yourself. Lead the way.”

Again, the halls of the Circle were quiet. It seemed Dorian was the only mage intent on doing work in the dark. In short order they were down in the basement and Cullen cursed himself for not taking an extra dose of lyrium. He could have used the power and the calming rush of it running through his veins. 

As Dorian worked, Cullen stuck a little closer to his side than last time. He didn’t want to be surprised and he wanted to be able to help defend their position if something happened. After an hour of standing two steps behind Dorian’s left shoulder, though, he remembered why had been caught off guard when the demons appeared. Dorian’s work was incredibly boring.

He was tired and itchy for another dose of lyrium. It must have been close to dawn, but it was impossible to tell so far below ground. It was the only possible reason for his question, that was both too personal and uncalled for. “Do you normally have Felix come through to clean up your mistakes?” 

Dorian stiffened, but didn’t turn from his inspection of the walls. “I was given to understand you didn’t have a problem with the situation.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not curious about it. How does it work? You do something that could get you into trouble and Felix makes it go away? Sounds like a heavy burden for a friend.”

Dorian closed a hand into a fist. “You have no idea. I have tried,” he drew a breath. “You have no idea.”

“So tell me.”

Maybe it was the darkness of the room, or the small circle of light cast by Dorian’s magic. Maybe it was their shared kiss at Cullen’s doorway, or Dorian’s desire to share, but after a moment, he began to speak. “It started when I was six. Father betrothed me to a girl I’d never met, who I wouldn’t meet for years. He said I would marry her and carry on our family name.” He drew a slow breath. “I wanted to please him so badly, I would have done anything. I didn’t know what it meant to be married, but if he said it was my duty, I would do it. All I wanted was to make him,” he shook his head. “That’s not the point. My future has been arranged in a neat little package for a very long time. Only, I never fit the box. Too willful, too much me, I suppose. All those years of careful breeding and they couldn’t get rid of free will.”

He turned and leaned back, his broad shoulders resting in the divots of some ancient language. “The first time it happened, I was caught entirely unaware. I thought he liked me, but he was just using me to get some influence and money. I wasn’t close with Felix yet, and he went to my father. We paid him and helped him gain a seat in the Magisterium. The silence in my house echoed for days. It was as if someone died. The image of his perfect son, I suppose.”

“The first time?”

“You don’t think I have a routine with Felix because I’m cautious? That might be part of it, but it’s history that’s taught me to be prepared. Had you wanted something, you would have been the eighth man who tried to get something from me because of an incautious moment.”

“Maker.”

Dorian hummed. “I’m certain the Maker has nothing to do with it. Anyway. I tried to not engage with men, I tried to be what he wanted, but it’s a losing battle, I’m afraid. Best to stay in a different city and pretend that all is well. The day is coming though; I can’t put off the marriage forever. I have no idea what I’ll do.” He shook himself. “What about you? What makes an experienced Templar shake like a child at the first hint of magic?”

Cullen breathed through the memory of screams. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Of course. I bare my soul, so you should share nothing.” He turned back to his work, the line of his shoulders stiff and angry.

“Dorian—“

Dorian waved him off. “It’s no matter.” He reached out and traced a glyph that flared to life. Though he pulled his hand back at the first spark, the pattern continued to glow and in the next moment, Dorian dropped bonelessly to the ground. It was so sudden Cullen didn’t have time to reach out to break his fall. 

He was cold to the touch and Cullen couldn’t rouse him. The stink of magic was thick in the basement, so Cullen lifted him up and made his way toward the stairs. The only thing he needed was to get them out of the basement, every other consideration was gone from his mind. He couldn’t leave Dorian behind, but they couldn’t stay below.

Halfway up the first set of stairs, Dorian jerked in his arms with surprising strength, flailing until Cullen was forced to stop and set him down. His eyes opened, but that was not Dorian staring back at him.

Possessed. He must be possessed. Cullen drew his sword, even as he called on is Templar training to suppress Dorian’s magic. He didn’t know how effective it would be against whatever was within Dorian, but he had nothing else. 

The thing with Dorian’s face spoke to him in a language he couldn’t understand, tone deeper and more guttural than Dorian’s normal voice. 

Cullen raised his sword. He wondered briefly what his punishment would be. He couldn’t imagine the Imperium would take kindly to his killing one of their mages. But then, Dorian’s eyes flashed red and his sword was too heavy for his hand. His body was too heavy and he fell to his knees, cracking them against the unforgiving marble of the stairs. A flash of red again and he slipped away from consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

His body ached. 

That was Cullen’s first impression of the world as he woke in slow, halting increments. He was cold. There was something sticky beneath his face, also cold. His jaw and right arm hurt. The rest of him tumbled in a low roar of pain.

He blinked his eyes to darkness, drew up a shaking hand to first make sure he still had eyes. They were whole and once that panic died, he found he could see, but that it was terribly dark. The outline of his hand was just visible, as was a small crack of light somewhere up above. He reached out, thinking to start pulling himself up the stairs and smacked his hand into something large and soft and definitely not stone.

“Dorian,” he rasped. He felt his way up to Dorian’s throat, worry flooding him at the cool skin he encountered. But there was a pulse, slow and weak, but present. He scooped an arm under Dorian’s shoulders and started the long process of hauling him up, step by step.

Cullen had to stop several times before he reached the door to the main floor. It felt like hours, each step an almost insurmountable goal and the sharp edges of the marble cut against his fingers, while the smooth indentations in the middle of each step slipped under his hands. At last, his hand thumped against solid wood instead of stone and he almost wept in relief. He heaved himself up, fumbled with the latch and then slumped out into the foyer. It was empty save Felix, who turned at the clatter.

He was up on to their side in an instant. “What happened?”

With his burden faithfully delivered, Cullen collapsed to the floor, each breath a serious effort. “Something took him.”

Felix lifted Dorian into his arms with the same ease one might pick up a sleeping child. “Can you stand?”

The thought of it was more than he could contemplate. He shook his head and then closed his eyes against the dizziness that washed over him. 

“All right. I’ll be right back.” He bent down until Cullen looked at him. “I’m coming back.”

Honestly, Cullen didn’t care if Felix came back. He was in the light. The pulsing, wretched stink of magic had faded. He was happy to live on the floor of the foyer if they let him. He closed his eyes in a slow blink and when he opened them, Felix was standing over him, his face creased in concern.

“Let’s get you up.” Felix knelt at his side and pulled him up with the same ease he showed maneuvering Dorian. Though he would have liked to have taken credit for making it to the room off the foyer under his own power, Felix did the bulk of the work. Once he was stretched out on a low couch by a window, Felix left him to tend to Dorian who was opposite him on another couch.

Cullen listened to the low murmur of Felix’s voice, quiet enough that he couldn’t make out individual words. He sounded in control and serious, but not overwhelmed with concern.Cullen closed his eyes and drifted, only to lurch up as waking nightmares rushed him, trapped. He was trapped and there were demons, abominations slaughtering everyone. He would be next. They told him he would be next. Every time.

“Cullen. Breathe with me. It’s all right. Breathe, now. That’s right.” Felix’s hands were on his shoulders, calm, steady, solid until Cullen was able to breathe and see around the jagged shapes of his memories. Felix pulled out a bottle of liquid lyrium and downed it, then placed his hands on either side of Cullen’s face.

A warm wash of magic, soothing instead of frightening, flooded through him and the pain and confusion drained out of him. When Felix was done, he still felt the aches and pains, but they were distant, muted.

“Magic isn’t for forte, but I can do some healing. Good thing for both of you. Can you tell me what happened? Dorian’s still unconscious.”

He closed his eyes, but the memory of Dorian’s red eyes made him long for the light. As best as he could, he described what happened, starting from when Dorian touched the glyph. Felix was patient and precise, more rigorous than any instructor Cullen had ever had as he made Cullen tell the story again and again, digging deeper for more details, better details until Cullen’s head was swimming with it.

“I told him to leave this alone.” Felix stood and paced over to Dorian. “He’s sleeping now, instead of unconscious, but I don’t like it. You’re sure you saw red in his eyes?”

“Not just red in his eyes, they were red.”

Felix ran his hand over his short hair and turned back to Cullen. “I don’t want to be indelicate about this, but is there, perhaps, a chance that you’re exaggerating what happened? I understand you were besieged by demons in Ferelden. That sort of trauma can make even the most ordinary things seem sinister.”

“I didn’t imagine it.” He slammed his hand against the wall, furious that Felix knew, that someone had spread the word ahead of him. Did they all know? Did Dorian know and take him into the basement anyway as a form of punishment for being his watcher?

Felix held up his hands. “All right. I just don’t see any signs of possession in him now. That’s not the sort of thing that doesn’t leave a trace or disappears on its own.”

“It happened.” It did. He knew it happened.

“Do you think you can make it back to your room? It’d be best if you got some rest. The healing I did was rudimentary, and you still need to recover.”

He considered Dorian’s sleeping form. Though Felix had proven his strength, he wasn’t sure he had it in him to do what was necessary should Dorian open red eyes on the room. “I think I should stay.”

“Then you sit there and be silent, let me handle this.” Felix knelt at Dorian’s side and brushed back the hair from his face. It was a tender gesture and Cullen felt compelled to look away. He heard Felix’s low voice, soft and fond, and then felt a light wash of magic. 

Dorian came awake in an instant, sputtering and startled. He swung his gaze around the room, but Cullen noted that his eyes were clear, the same pale grey-green that was so compelling. “Felix?”

Felix gave him a moment to orient himself then ran through the same questions that he had posed to Cullen: what was he doing in the basement, what happened, what was the glyph, what color was it, what happened next, what did it feel like. Most of Dorian’s answers matched his own. On some of them he had more detail, less on others. 

“It felt like a, a rush of wind, but hot, like standing in a fire without being burned alive. Then, then I don’t remember.”

“Cullen says you were possessed.”

Dorian shook his head. “No, there was no demon in the room. There was an old power there, but nothing like I’ve ever felt or met in the fade.”

“I saw you, your eyes were red and you were speaking in a language I’ve never heard.”

He sat slowly, as if testing his body and the very room itself. “Yes, something passed through me, but whatever it was, is gone now.” He shook out his arms, halfway to a shiver. “Can’t say I’m sorry to have it go.”

Felix stood back and drew in a long breath. “Clean yourselves up.” He nodded to the washroom. “We’ll head to the estate, to finish running tests. This isn’t a conversation I’m comfortable continuing here and you both look a fright. I’ll be back.”

Cullen let Dorian clean up first, not out of a sense of duty, but because he wasn’t comfortable with his back to Dorian just yet. If Dorian took his time, there was a good chance Felix would be back by the time it was his turn and there would be another person in the room to help with defense.

“I can feel your distrust from here. I can assure you, I am myself.”

“But you weren’t.”

Dorian didn’t turn away from the basin where he was sluicing water over his face and hands. “It was a momentary diversion. You have no need to worry for your safety.”

They’d lied to him at Kinloch as well, whispered sweet promises in his ear, if only he would give in, if only he would let the demons take him. It wasn’t just the sounds of his friends at the slaughter that haunted him, it was how close he came to giving in, because he wanted to believe them so badly. “After Felix’s tests.”

Dorian patted his face dry, looking better for being up and wiped clean of the blood that dripped from Cullen’s wounds. “As you wish.” He moved past Cullen and stood next to the door. “I’ll just stay over here, shall I?”

He hated that he was so easy to read, but grateful for the distance between them. “As you will.” He cleaned up as best he could. His face and hair were easy enough, but his clothes were another matter. Felix, when he returned, fixed the matter for him by throwing a ceremonial cloak around his shoulders.

“It’s a bit warm for it, but better than us being stopped for suspicious blood spatter. There’s a carriage waiting in the court yard, if you would, sers.” Felix led the way and Cullen stayed back to keep an eye on Dorian and also because he was still weak and a little light-headed.

The carriage ride was uncomfortable, both for the jostling of the carriage itself which put his knee into contact with Dorian’s at every little jounce, but also because he didn’t know where to look. Felix was a study in contemplation, his gaze too knowing, too pitying to stand. Every time he looked at Dorian, all he saw was a flash of red. In the end, he turned his gaze to the curtained window, letting the gauzy city slide by.

At the estate, Felix had a servant escort Cullen to a room to rest while he and Dorian went off to complete their tests. He thought nerves and worry would keep him up and pacing, but as soon as he sank onto the soft surface of the guest bed he was overcome and lost the battle to sleep in moments. 

*

It was still light when he woke and he felt better for the late afternoon sun shining through the broad windows. He rested among the fine sheets and blankets and imagined a world where he was able to wake at his leisure with no thought to his day beyond who he might entertain and what party to attend. There was a good chance he would be bored in a week, but there was also a good chance that there wouldn’t be such a high instance of demons in his life.

There was a pitcher of water waiting for him, which he drained in a sudden thirst, as well as fresh clothes. They were in the current Tevinter style, showing more skin than he was comfortable with, but they weren’t covered in blood, so he switched them out and tried not to tug at the buckles and straps.

One of Felix’s servants directed him to a study were Felix and Dorian were poised over a stack of books, each reading and taking feverish notes. Dorian looked up as he entered and a flash of heat flared in his eyes. It wasn’t the red of the Circle basement, but something far more familiar and primal.

“Cullen, good to see you up. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you. Have you made progress?”

Felix nodded. “I’ve run every test I could think of and quite a few I looked up. There’s nothing in Dorian that shouldn’t be there. Whatever passed into him in the Circle passed out again. He’s perfectly safe.”

Dorian grinned, all teeth and feral. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Then what’s all this for?” He looked away from the heat in Dorian’s gaze.

“Something did happen, but it’s hard to say what without more information. We’re trying to find out what might have been beneath the Circle Tower to cause the reaction.”

“I see.” He thought that a good time to consider that was well before a mage went poking around in the basement, but he kept his thoughts to himself and let them work. He couldn’t help, as many of the texts were in languages he didn’t read and even if he could, he wouldn’t know what to look for or where to start. It was still his duty to stay by Dorian’s side, though it seemed more and more likely that he wouldn’t be able to prevent him from doing anything that might cause him harm. 

Dorian and Felix worked while Cullen sat at the window and watched them. Felix had a methodical approach to his work, he finished a book or a section before moving on to the next. He kept copious notes that Cullen could tell even from a distance were detailed. Dorian moved through his research the way he moved through his life, bouncing from one book to the next, talking to himself and to Felix. His notes were haphazard, but his recall was impressive. When Felix asked for a specific reference, Dorian would close his eyes, tip his head toward the ceiling, and rattle off the book, page number, and location on the page. It shouldn’t have been so attractive, but Cullen was forced to look away and shift in his seat.

That didn’t stop Dorian from noticing. He caught Cullen’s gaze, grinned at him with all of his perfect teeth, and then went back to work.

As the sun was setting, a servant came into the room and bowed to Felix. “Ser, Master Alexius has sent word that he will be dining at the estate this evening with a guest.”

Felix smiled. “I didn’t know father was so close. It’s possible he may have some insight.”

Dorian did not look so pleased. “Any idea who his guest is?”

“I believe he is traveling with Magister Pavus.”

“Well,” Dorian stood. “It’s been delightful as always, Felix. Give my regards to your father.”

The servant cleared his throat. “Your pardon, Ser. I believe the elder Pavus is expecting you.”

“Then I shall have to disappoint him.” He left his books and research and patted Felix’s shoulder on his way to the door. 

Cullen stood and followed, even though he was intensely curious about Dorian’s father. What sort of man was father to a person like Dorian? Dorian had said their relationship was strained and put the blame squarely on his father. Cullen imagined there had to be more to the story, and was disappointed not to see the two of them together.

They made their way through the estate and out to the main entrance when they were met by a fine carriage, larger and more lavish than the one they’d been using. It pulled to a halt in front of the doors as Dorian swore. He straightened his shoulders and an arrogant, falsely bright expression dropped over his face. It was like nothing Cullen had ever seen on Dorian and it made his stomach turn.

“Father,” he said as two men exited the carriage. One was clearly Felix’s father, with the same open smile and easy manner. The other man was tall like Dorian with the same broad shoulders and thick dark hair, but that was the end of their similarities. Where Dorian was charming and easy, the elder Pavus was rigid. His disapproval radiated across the entire estate. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

“I expected you to be at the Circle.”

He nodded, but it was the jerk of his head only, not an agreement, not an acquiescence. “I was just leaving.” 

“I had intended to visit you tomorrow at the Circle. We can share a meal this evening and it will save me time on my trip. Your mother will want to know about your studies.”

“Of course.” He moved back to allow the Magisters to enter the house.

Dinner was, Cullen didn’t know how to describe it. Awkward was a good start, but it was more than that. There was a fine line of tension running underneath every interaction, every glance shared by Dorian and his father. When the senior Alexius spoke to Felix, took pleasure in his work and accomplishments, Cullen could feel the anger coiled in Dorian. Everyone ignored Cullen like he wasn’t at the table, though he was served food and a servant kept his wine glass full.

And then, Dorian’s father brought up the fiancé. “We had Livia at the estate last month. Charming girl.”

“That’s nice.” The food was gone so there was nothing for Dorian to do with his hands. 

“She’ll be quite adept at running the household. She managed the slaves admirably when your mother took ill.” Halward was so intense in his regard for Dorian it was as if they were the only two people in the entire estate. “Her family is asking for a date to set the wedding.”

“I’m certain you can put them off a little longer. I haven’t finished my training.”

“You can still continue your training once you’re married. I was married and nearing completion of my studies at your age.

“Yes, but Livia despises Minrathous and you know the Circle in Qarinus won’t have me.” 

It was like watching a fight, but with words and manners as opposed to swords. Neither of them moved, not a finger, not a tilt of the chin. They locked on each other’s eyes and spoke as if reciting the words to a long ago determined play that neither could deviate from. Cullen coughed to break the tension, and then shrank back as Halward swung his gaze on him. 

He studied Cullen and it felt like Halward knew all of his secrets and faults and wrong desires in a single glance. He wanted to stand and leave, but found no strength in his legs. 

“I find myself in need of a rest. Good night.” He stood and swept from the room and the tension bled out with his exit.

There was a pause and Cullen could see the three remaining men choose to ignore what happened as they dove into an easy and animated discussion of magical theory and the characters at work within the Minrathous Circle. By the time they all pushed back from the table to retire for the evening, it was late.

“Please, stay the night, Dorian. It’s too late for you to head back to the Circle. Halward and I will be gone before dawn, so you’ll have the whole estate to yourselves.”

Dorian gave a half bow. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Alexius kissed Felix’s forehead and waved them off to bed, his gait steady for a man who drank as much wine as he had.

“Your guest room is made up. I always keep it ready for you, just in case. Cullen, I can help you back to your room.”

Dorian’s hand shot out and gripped Cullen’s wrist. “I can show him.”

Felix frowned. “Don’t do anything I can’t fix.”

Instead of a reply, Dorian dragged Cullen away, down the hall. He said nothing, let Dorian lead him until they were in a room twice the size of the one Cullen had woken in. Dorian closed the door behind them and pushed Cullen against it. He pressed his body against Cullen’s hip to chest and nipped at his lips. “If you don’t want this, now is the time to say.”

Getting caught in the Circle seemed like a minor infraction in comparison to what Magister Pavus would do if he found them together. “Your father is in the house.”

“Fuck him.” Dorian kissed him, a little rough, a little fast, his hands were strong and firm as they caressed Cullen’s arms and chest. He sucked at Cullen’s neck sending a full body shiver through him. It had been so long, so very long. Dorian wanted him and it was easy to let him. 

So, he let him.

*

Cullen woke alone, in Dorian’s bed, with the evidence of their activities all around him. His skin smelled like Dorian. There was a dark bruise at his hip where Dorian had sucked until Cullen had arched off the bed in a strangely arousing mix of pleasure and pain. His body was relaxed in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He took his time rising and dressing for the day. Though Alexius promised to be out of the house before dawn, he had no desire to accidently run into Magister Pavus. Once dressed, he wandered through the halls of the house until he found Dorian and Felix tucked away in the study, once again at work.

Felix smiled at him in greeting, asked how he slept and offered to have food brought to him. And Dorian. Dorian ignored him. It was like it had been the first week when Cullen might as well have been invisible, no better than a silent slave in the room. The relaxed feeling in his bones died the longer Dorian ignored him.

He didn’t know what he expected. Clearly he’d been a means to get back at Dorian’s father, nothing more. He should have known better. Cullen didn’t regret their time together, but it would have been nice if Dorian had let him know where they stood before he started something. 

Cullen settled in his place at the window and wondered what he would have to do to be sent home. Ferelden, even with its memories, had to be better than this.

Toward the afternoon, Dorian excused himself. Felix waited until they were alone, then spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“He’s not his best when Halward is around.”

Cullen shook his head. Of all the things he was feeling, the desire to talk about any of them was far down on his list. “I’m fine.”

“I could talk to Verinus and see if you can be reassigned. You wouldn’t be the first, and honestly you’ve lasted longer than most.”

He shook his head and wished he’d had the forethought to bring his lyrium with him. He wasn’t anywhere close to going into withdrawal, but he still craved it. “It’s fine.”

Felix didn’t look like he believed him. “If you want to talk, I—“

A thunderous crash echoed up from somewhere in the house, and the sharp smell of smoke spread through the air. Cullen was on his feet in a moment. He ran to the door, burst out in the hallway, and tried to orient himself to the commotion. It seemed to be coming from the courtyard. He drew his sword and ran, Felix just behind him.

Out in the courtyard, amid the flowering bushes and shade trees, Dorian was standing in the middle of raw fire, his eyes blank and red. He was speaking, the language that Cullen couldn’t understand, but he seemed stronger this time. He pointed to Cullen, then to Felix.

Out of instinct, and not a little fear, Cullen cast Smite on him, but it did nothing. He cast again, hoping, desperate that it might do something, and was met with no change. Felix strode to the east wall, calm and collected and pressed his hand, fingers spread wide, on a glyph. It flared under his touch and a cool wind swept through the courtyard. The flame around Dorian died, the red in his eyes faded, and he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

“You said he was safe.” Cullen held onto his sword like a child held a favorite blanket. It wouldn’t protect him against true monsters, but he couldn’t let it go. 

“All of my tests said he was safe.” Felix approached Dorian with caution. The ground around Dorian was charred, the edges of his clothes burned as well, though his skin and hair seemed to have been saved. “This is something more powerful than we expected, but not strong enough to overcome the protection glyphs of the estate. I’m afraid the two of you won’t be leaving until we figure this out. Help me get him up and back to the library.”

Cullen was loath to touch him. The memory of Dorian’s hands on him from the night before made his stomach turn. He hadn’t been possessed then. He couldn’t have been. For the sake of Cullen’s sanity, he could not have been.

Felix was able to lift Dorian, so it fell to Cullen to open doors and arrange the furniture for Dorian’s prone form. Felix checked Dorian’s pulse, lifted his eyelids and seemed satisfied. “He’ll wake on his own. It’s not possession. Demons don’t work this way. Something is trying to manifest itself through Dorian as a conduit. It’s not strong enough yet, but it’s growing stronger. That was an ancient form of Tevene he was speaking.”

“Dorian said something about finding references to an old god. Raziel? Something like that.”

“Razikale? He was a dragon god, tied to fire. It fits.”

Cullen ran his hand through his hair and tried not imagine the power behind the force working through Dorian. “How do we stop a god?” 

“I don’t know.”

He didn’t like the lost sound of Felix’s voice. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know. Tell someone. The Grand Enchanter must know something.”

“I doubt it. No one has had to deal with this kind of thing for hundreds of years. Longer, probably. If we involve the Grand Enchanter, they’ll lock Dorian away to study him. He’ll be trapped inside the Circle for the rest of his life or until Razikale manages to break through.”

“Both of those things can still happen right here, but we’ll be putting a lot more people at risk if we try to keep it a secret. We need help.”

“He’s right.”

They turned to see Dorian pushing himself to a sitting position. “I remember more now. Razikale was there, inside me, trying to burn his way out. Distance doesn’t matter. He’ll find me no matter where I go. He burns. All he wants is to burn, set the whole world on fire.” His voice soft, his words slow and Cullen shivered.

“We have time.” Felix crossed the room and knelt before Dorian, grasping his shoulders. “The glyphs in the estate are strong enough to banish him for now. They’re as strong as any wards in the Circle. Let me work. I can find a way to help you.”

Dorian leaned back to rest. “Try. But don’t keep me here too long.” He closed his eyes and fell into a natural sleep.

Felix stayed at Dorian’s side for a moment then stood and strode to the bookcases lining the walls. He grabbed half a dozen volumes and dropped them into Cullen’s hands. “You should be able to read these. Find every single reference you can to Razikale. He was bound once, we just have to find out how to do it again.”

They read through the afternoon and evening, taking dinner in the study at the long tables. They broke long enough to see Dorian drink some water and eat a small amount of food before sleep took him again. Felix paused to draw glyph after glyph of protection and healing and a number of others Cullen never seen, throughout the room and around Dorian. 

Once at dusk and again at midnight Razikale tried to manifest, but the protections on the room prevent him. After each contact, though, Dorian grew weaker. Cullen could see the rapid beat of his heart from across the room, the sheen of sweat on his skin and his eyes fluttered beneath closed lids. 

“Ah!”

Cullen jerked at Felix’s exclamation. He’d been dozing over his book, the words long ago run together to form nonsense. He sat up and stretched until his back cracked. “You found something?”

“Yes. It was a conclave that sealed Razikale. Twelve mages and a sacrifice.”

“Well,” Dorian turned his head, but didn’t move any other part of his body. “We have two mages and a Templar. Perhaps it’s time to call the Grand Enchanter.” 

Felix shook his head and tapped the book. “The spell isn’t complicated. Between the two of us we can manage it, even if you’re not completely well.”

“What about the sacrifice. I won’t be part of blood magic.” He pushed himself to sit up, and closed his eyes for a moment. “I won’t.”

“Have a little faith in me. The sacrifice is metaphorical, we have to give something up but it doesn’t have to be blood or a life. It does have to be significant though. Memory would work best.”

Memory, they could take Kinloch away from him. He could sleep in peace, and breathe without the remembered scent of blood clogging his nose. “You can have my memory.”

Felix shook his head. “It would have to be something you want to keep, something precious. I can’t take what you want to give.” He drew a breath. “But I could take this. Your time here in Tevinter. You would have to leave the Imperium and never return, but it would be enough for the spell to hold. I’ve been looking.” He slid his glance toward Dorian. “When I thought it might be best to find a way to get you out of the city for other reasons. The Knight Commander in Kirkwall is looking to replace her Knight Captain. It would be easy enough to arrange.” 

Kirkwall. It was far enough away from Ferelden that it might let him rest. But could he give up his time in Tevinter? The night he spent with Dorian was his first night of peace since Kinloch. His only memory of solace. But it didn’t seem to mean more to Dorian, and given his circumstances, there was no kind of future for them. Cullen had seen men like Dorian before. He might be willing to stand up to his father now, but he would eventually cave to those demands. Cullen could not stand to witness the misery of that life.

“I’ll do it.”

“Give us a moment, will you, Felix?” Dorian waited until Felix left to room to beckon him over. Cullen went on hesitant legs, unable to help being drawn to Dorian. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

Cullen imagined there were other ways, but none that didn’t see Dorian a subject of experimentation for the rest of his life. He didn’t want that for him. He fought for Cullen when the demons came, he had control over his magic in a way Cullen had never seen. He’d helped Cullen, just the smallest bit, be less afraid of mages. “I want to.”

“You would forget me so easily?” It was said in a light tone, but Cullen could see the pain in Dorian’s eyes and feel it in his grip on Cullen’s wrist. 

He wished Dorian had the strength to tighten his grip and leave the imprint of his fingers on Cullen’s skin. “It’s the most precious memory I have.”

“The things you say,” Dorian whispered, drawing Cullen down for a kiss. It was light, chaste compared to the night before, but no less heartfelt. “I will miss you.”

He ran his fingers through Dorian’s hair, breathed in the scent of him. It would all be taken from him, but he could hold it for now. “But you’ll be alive.”

“We should hurry. He’s trying again.”

Cullen stepped away and went to collect Felix. The two mages worked in flawless harmony as they reviewed the spell. They set the glyphs and drew Cullen into the Circle. He disliked being so close to so much magic, but kept the feelings to himself and allowed them to work, to position him and to ink a glyph onto his skin. 

Felix stepped back to examine their work and nodded. “You shouldn’t feel a thing. When you wake, you’ll be on a ship to Kirkwall. I hope you find the peace there you’re looking for.”

There was so much he wanted to say to Felix and to Dorian, but there wasn’t time. He could feel the heat coming off of Dorian, the red tinge to his eyes that marked Razikale return. “Maker protect us.”

There was a flash of bright light and then, nothing.


	5. Epilogue

The mage looked exhausted and Cullen moved before he was aware of his own actions, stepping forward to catch him before he could collapse. He was tall, and well-muscled, but the bulk of him still surprised Cullen. He helped him stand, and couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him. 

The feel of him in Cullen’s arms was almost akin to a memory. 

He shook off the odd sensation and turned his attention to the mage’s warning. There was an army bearing down on Haven that needed to be dealt with before he could ponder anything else. Maker willing, he would have plenty of time to speak with their messenger later.


End file.
